


Two Dead Men

by coldwarqueer



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demons, Horror, Illegal Activities, M/M, Occult, Sex Work, Somnophilia, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldwarqueer/pseuds/coldwarqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix likes to think himself a reasonable person, and ghosts are definitely not reasonable.</p><p>//</p><p>AKA that one fic with the purring demon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Dead Men

If there was anything Felix knew when it came to barter and trade was that the trade had to be worth the favor. Service was worth cash, favors for favors, information for promises. Generally trading physical goods was harder for him, considering he was likely to want it whether it was worth anything or not.

“I can’t believe I took that piece of garbage,” Felix muttered, face in one hand and beer in the other.

“I can’t either.” Felix’s colleague sat in the chair beside him, feet propped up on the table like they belonged there. “Nice for parties, at least.”

Felix nudged the item in question, a woodburned Ouija board that had been lacquered and smoothed around the edges. It was no doubt handmade, old and weathered around the corners. “You think it works?”

“Uh,” Sharkface hesitated. “No. That’s why I said it’s great for parties.”

“We should try it out. I mean, I did a favor for it.” Felix set his beer down and curled his fingers around the board. He clutched the planchette for it, handcarved with a magnifying glass in the center to highlight the letters under it. “Scared to talk to some ghosts?”

“Scared to be bored more like. Come on, we’ve got more fun things to do.” Sharkface tried to lean in, hand on Felix’s thigh and sliding up. He was promptly pushed away, hand guided to the planchette.

“I did a favor for this. We’re using it.”

“Shit, did you suck his dick as the favor or something? You’re not usually so pissy about a shitty trade.”

“Just take your hand off your dick and put it on the board.” Felix bumped Sharkface’s elbow with his own. Felix pulled the board closer between them, and put his hands on the planchette. “Have you ever used one of these before?”

“No,” Sharkface said, “Why would I?” He had this look on his face like he expected Felix to say he really did believe in Ouija boards. “Have  _ you _ ?”

“No. I’ve just watched a lot of bad movies.” Felix took a drink of his beer before he settled into his chair, fingertips on the planchette of the board. He waited until Sharkface joined him, and then slid the planchette over the “Hello” burned into the board. Felix spoke up, “Hello?”

Nothing happened. Sharkface, rather amused, asked, “Is anyone there?” After a moment of silence, Sharkface looked at Felix and said, “See? It’s all a bunch of bull- holy shit.”

The planchette slid across the board, until it came to a full stop at “Yes.”

“Come on, Felix, that’s not funny.” Sharkface took his hands off the planchette, only to be urged back onto it.

“It’s not me. Must be a ghost.” Felix elbowed Sharkface in the side. “Ask it something.”

“If you’re really a ghost you’d know stuff. What’s my name?” Sharkface asked. He sounded irritable and sarcastic. Felix couldn’t help but snicker. Sharkface ignored the noise Felix made as the planchette began moving. He spoke out loud the letters, “T-E-R-R-E- Felix, cut it out! It’s not funny. You’re just trying to scare me.”

Felix was already laughing, hands curled around his sides as he cackled in his seat. “I just still can’t get over your fucking name.” Felix was cuffed over the head and he wiped away budding tears from his eyes, still laughing. “Okay. Fine. Shit.”

“You ask something this time, genius.” Sharkface looked rather expectantly at Felix, waiting for him to ask something stupid. If all Felix was capable of was making fun of his real name then there was certain to be something stupid afoot.

“Fine. Is there anyone there?” The planchette slid, steady and with a destination, to the “Yes.” Felix was unwavered, certain that now it was Sharkface’s turn to play around with the answers. “Hey, ghost. Do you think I’m pretty?”

The planchette slid almost immediately, over to the engraved “Yes.”

“Awh, fishface thinks I’m pretty,” Felix teased, grinning at Sharkface.

“What are you talking about? I would have said no.” Sharkface snorted and crossed his arms. “All we’re doing is fucking around and moving it ourselves.”

“Well I sure as hell didn’t move it.” Felix looked unnerved for only a moment. “Stop it. That’s not funny. Don’t try to scare me with this ghost bullshit, I know you moved it.”

“Christ, this is just going to run us around in circles. Just admit you’re trying to scare me.” Sharkface looked more irritated than unnerved. “Which isn’t going to work, by the way. I don’t believe in any of this shit.”

“It wasn’t me,” Felix insisted, but he dropped it. “Whatever, this is stupid.” He pushed the board away and leaned into the hand that slid across his back.

“I’ve got better ideas,” Sharkface said, pulling the chair Felix sat on closer to him. Felix didn’t stop him as they kissed, slow at first, then harder and more deliberate. They left the Ouija board on the table when they moved to the bedroom.

•••  


Sharkface didn’t spend the night. He never did. Felix wandered around his bedroom naked, stretching his arms above his head after a long, hot shower. Being alone after a long day was a relief. His apartment floors creaked under his feet and the window groaned as he pulled it down.

Felix appreciated being alone. He appreciated the silence and the buzz of his electronics, and he appreciated curling up in bed knowing he was the only one in his apartment.

The television in his room stayed on late into the night as he curled around one of many pillows on his bed. Felix watched, half asleep, barely paying attention. He thought he saw a shadow flicker outside his window, but he ignored it, certain he was just tired.

It wasn’t long until Felix felt a chill despite his many blankets; his only response was to pile more on top of himself. He never was a fan of the cold.

Felix rubbed at his eyes, sitting up and glancing around the room. The only light came from his TV, an eerie glow illuminating the quiet corners of his bedroom. There was nothing there, only the calm of the dark. Of being alone. Satisfied, Felix turned his head into his pillow and turned the TV off, a stillness coming down over his room. A fitting end to a busy day. The quiet and the dark, not discomforting or suffocating, but just right.

Just as he was drifting off, Felix could swear that he felt the bed dip and a softness press against his back. He fell asleep to a distant, comforting rumble beside him.

•••  


Felix had a routine. Wake up, drink a pot of coffee, pay bills with stolen credit cards, text Sharkface about any work that might have cropped up. The usual.

Felix was nursing the dregs of the coffee pot when he saw it.

Shadows lingering at the corners of his eyes, swaying. Felix barely turned his head, and the shadow was gone.

Undeterred, he returned to his work.

•••  


“Is it cold?” Felix asked. It had been two weeks since the Ouija board incident. He rubbed at his arms, already in a long sleeved shirt. Sharkface was sitting on his couch, surfing the internet. He was waiting for Sharkface to be done, they could drink beer and fuck, but the asshole just kept browsing aimlessly.

“No. It’s kinda warm, actually.” Sharkface looked over the back of the couch at Felix in the kitchen. “You look bored.”

“I’m cold and I want to fuck.” Felix had no reservations about telling Sharkface exactly what he wanted. The more of nothing he did the more he wanted to bash someone’s skull in. “You should take me out sometime, on a job. I like going on your jobs.”

“My jobs are lots of sitting around and waiting,” Sharkface said, closing his laptop.

“You get to kill people in the end.” Felix would kill for a job like Sharkface’s. Literally. “I want to kill people for cash.”

“It’s not that fun.”

“For you, maybe.” It wasn’t like Felix hadn’t killed before, for money even, but it was just more patience than he had. He wanted to be in the fray of it. “Take me with you. I like watching.”

“You act like it’s some orgy or something.” Sharkface shrugged it off and motioned for Felix to join him on the couch. “You should just break into my market instead of jacking off on camera all the time.”

“But when it becomes my job it’s so much pressure.” Felix joined Sharkface on the couch, crawling across his lap.

“You just said you wanted to kill people for cash.”

“Yeah but I don’t want it to be my job.” Felix stretched out and rolled onto his back, staring up at Sharkface. “It’s all about labels, fishface.”

“So what? It would be a hobby?”

“Hobbies are nice.” Felix grinned at his colleague, and marched his fingers up his chest. “Kind of like how you giving me blowjobs is your hobby, not your job.”

“So that means give you a blowjob, right?” Sharkface mused, pulling Felix up by sliding an arm around him. He kissed along Felix’s neck, squeezing his middle when he squirmed.

Felix was on his back, Sharkface between his thighs, when he heard it. Glass shattering. He made a startled noise and sat up, looking over the couch. “Shit- there’s beer all over the kitchen floor.”

“What?” Sharkface joined Felix in looking. He groaned and rubbed his face as he saw the mess. “Christ, that was my beer.”

“Well then you can fucking clean it up you asshole,” Felix exclaimed, face going red as he stared at the glass all over the floor. Not even blueballs could deter his anger at the huge mess in his apartment. “Why’d you fucking go and set it halfway off the counter?”

“I didn’t!”

“Bullshit- why’s it all over my floor then?”

Sharkface grumbled his entire way to the kitchen. Felix listened to the sound of a broom sweeping up glass and beer. He turned onto his side, pulling his underwear up. There would be no more fooling around that night. Felix was too pissed off by Sharkface’s carelessness to fuck him.

•••  


After setting up his camera and the livestream, Felix was ready to start work.

Felix liked the solitary nature of masturbating on camera. Nothing illegal about it, no danger from potential murderers, and everyone who paid to watch him jack off ate up everything he did like candy. Felix stretched out on his bed, arms above his head until he could grip the headboard.

He was halfway through his usual routine, dirty talk, self touch, work himself up, when the lamp on his bedside table flickered. There was a pop, the light went dark, and Felix made a high pitched noise he would never admit to.

He scrambled to close the stream, end his recording, no longer in the mood to work. He stared off the edge of his bed, seeing the glass from the lamp’s lightbulb on the floor all around his bedside table. His heart raced as he slid off the other side, kicking his shoes on and rushing to clean up the mess.

Felix’s chest thrummed, his hand resting over his heart as he pulled up his computer again. He pulled up the video he had been recording, exing out of his livestream. There would be prepaid buyers who were angry, people who wanted money back or people who would send him death threats, among other unsavory promises. He would ignore it; he ignored all the threats he was sent.

When Felix played the video back it was devoid of explanation. It was him, doing what he did, exactly the way he planned, until the lamp beside him began to flicker, and then exploded. He thought for a brief moment, in the flickering light, there was a shadow that shouldn’t have been there.

When he paused the video, replayed it ten times (ignoring the noise he definitely didn’t make), Felix convinced himself the vague outline was nothing.

Felix closed his computer, unwilling to deal with the unexplained phenomena for the moment.

•••  


Sharkface hadn’t called in a week.

It wasn’t as if that was uncommon. Sometimes Felix went a month or more before hearing from his colleague (he was resistant against saying partner. It just didn’t feel right).

Felix couldn’t even say there was a “but” to the situation. There was something about it now that was bothering him, nagging at him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like when his normal routine felt like it was wrong, or that there was something astray.

Felix found himself calling Sharkface, tapping his foot to the sound of the rings. He didn’t like being so irritated, but all he could think was that Sharkface was avoiding him, wasn’t talking to him, and normally that would have been no skin off his nose.

He hated this uncertain bad mood.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Where have you been?” Felix sounded angrier than he was. “A text would have been nice.”

“Whoa, what crawled up your ass?” Sharkface sounded like he had turned away from a crowd, escaping somewhere private. It inflamed Felix to think that this conversation had to be private. “You couldn’t have texted me yourself?”

“That’s not my job,” Felix snapped, heat rising in his cheeks. He wanted to throw something- at Sharkface specifically.

“Well it’s not my fucking job either, Christ, Felix.” Sharkface sounded exasperated, like Felix had taken him away from something important. “It’s only been a week. It’s not like I’m hiding any job offers from you, it’s been dead out here.”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Felix knew there was no need to antagonize the situation. It didn’t stop him. “I’d know if you gave me a fucking line every now and then.”

“Shit, Felix, you’re acting like some jealous boyfriend. Are you in a bad mood or something?”

Felix wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to admit he was and give Sharkface the satisfaction of being right, but he didn’t want to provoke more conflict. “Shut the fuck up. You’re not my boyfriend.” He didn’t give Sharkface a chance reply before he hung up.

•••  


Felix called and they made up a few days later. Felix didn’t apologize for the way he acted, and Sharkface didn’t ask him to. It was easier that way.

“Do you want to come over?” Felix asked, pulling his sweater down over his head. He was getting colder, despite the weather remaining stagnant. “I’m cold. If you get my drift.”

“Maybe tomorrow. I can’t leave my station right now, I’m on the clock.”

“Are you stalking a kill?” Felix was already sliding a hand over the crotch of his leggings. The thought of Sharkface readying himself to end someone’s life, to end up covered in blood and gore, was getting him warmed up for what he was sure to turn into phone sex.

“Are you going to jack off if I tell you?”

“You’re no fun.” Felix huffed. He stopped touching himself, already feeling as if the mood had been ruined. It was no fun when Sharkface knew he was getting off on the images of him bloody and full of death. “Tomorrow?” He listened to Sharkface chatter about how he could come over the next day, do unspeakable things to him, and then afterwards they could have a couple beers and watch Game of Thrones. Felix liked all of those things.

When Sharkface hung up Felix returned to his idle touching, groping and fondling himself through his leggings. He thought of Sharkface, and how nice it would be to have sex after a week too long. What Sharkface lacked in a pretty face he made up for with talented hands.

Felix gasped when he felt something cold touch him. It felt like fingers, icy and dry. A shiver crawled up his spine, akin to the feeling of scratching nails on paper. Felix sat up, looking around his dark room to find nothing. It was empty, and there was a uneasy disquiet that came with the eerie glow of the grey morning sun.

He could feel something feathery soft on his hips, sliding like a blanket off his legs. It was light and his breath hitched as he waited. He wanted something to happen, something definitive, something he could put stock of reality in.

Instead the touches slipped away at his knees, leaving him cold and paranoid.

•••  


That night Felix dreamt of someone.

Not uncommon, he often had sexual dreams with people he didn’t know, so long as the attention stayed on him. He didn’t think of the dream as any different, just another handsome, faceless person worshipping him. The hands on his hips were cold and the mouth hot, and Felix felt his heart thump as he felt the icy touch spread over him.

Felix dreamt of someone opening him up and filling him full of heat and comfort, splitting him down the middle with fire and hot lips. When he tried to catch their face he only saw dark eyes and wet lips eagerly pressed against his throat.

There was a heat that came from the imaginary hands stroking his thighs that was more unsettling than comforting.

Felix woke up with a raging morning wood and aching balls. He rolled over onto his stomach, until he could reach between his legs and stroke himself idly. There was no real desire to get off, just to relieve the ache between his legs.

In his sleepy haze, Felix felt hands along his back, over his thighs and something soft and gentle at the back of his neck, like a kiss. He gasped softly, a knot folding in his gut. He didn't like the ghostly touches or the phantom pleasure; they made his heart thud in his chest and his hair stand on end.

“Who’s there?” Felix asked as he turned onto his back, knowing he was alone, knowing he would get no answer. He thought asking might relieve the anxiety curling in his chest. It didn’t.

It felt like there were eyes on him, watching him, waiting for him to move. He pushed up on his palms, heart thudding. There was a lingering heat in his gut from his interrupted dream, and he conjured up the images for a brief moment, as if they might explain his paranoia.

When there was no response, no touching, no noises, Felix relaxed. “I’m losing it,” he muttered as he flopped back on the bed, splaying out with a stretch. He rolled over, his desire to get off overwhelmed by his desire to sleep.

•••  


“I just really want to chill out,” Felix said as he took a seat on the couch. He kicked his feet up into Sharkface’s lap, until he was able to relax against the arm of the couch. “Things have been weird around here, fishface.”

“I think you’re just paranoid.” Sharkface leaned over, arm curling around Felix’s arm and pulling him closer. “Nothing ever happens when I’m around.”

“Yeah,” Felix muttered, not willing to dredge up that particular subject. “Did you bring the beer?”

“Thank you, Sharkface, so much, for buying beer and bringing it to me, so I can mooch off of your kind hearted nature,” Sharkface mocked, giving Felix a squeeze around the middle. He was already kissing Felix’s neck, eager to get down to business. “I mean, not even a ‘hey, how was your day?’”

“No. Beer. Now.”

They were three beers in when Sharkface finally got Felix’s pants off. It was usually a little easier than that. Usually beer didn’t have to be included in that equation at all.

“Are you okay?” Sharkface prodded, arm sliding around Felix’s waist. “You’re acting weird.”

“That’s a stupid question,” Felix muttered, nursing his fourth bottle of beer. “I’m not acting weird, you’re just… I don’t know. Horny.”

“You’re  _ always _ horny.” Sharkface made a noise. “Come on, you suddenly don’t want to fuck? That’s like, eighty percent of the reason I even come over.”

“Well, maybe I just wanted to talk,” Felix huffed. He didn’t deny Sharkface the affection he sought out, leaning into the lips on his neck. He heaved a sigh, but leaned past Sharkface to set his beer down. He didn’t say anything more.

Sharkface didn’t have any objection as Felix slid into his lap. Felix straddled him, anchored over his hips. “Should we get to the bed?” Sharkface murmured, hands sliding into Felix’s belt and gripping tight. He was already lifting himself off the couch, urging Felix to rise with him.

“Hurry up.” Felix pushed Sharkface to the bedroom, until he was swept off the floor and onto his mattress. As his partner’s body pressed down against him, Felix wrapped himself around Sharkface, throwing himself into the eager kisses Sharkface gave him.

Felix had Sharkface’s cock, thick in his hand, red and aching for him. He was finally letting go of his paranoia and his anxiety, ready to let Sharkface undo him. There was nothing that could take him away from the warm hands working over his shaft.

Except the noise of his bedroom door slamming.

Felix jumped, pushing himself up and his breath catching in his throat. “Fuck-”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Sharkface said, kissing along Felix’s neck. He didn’t seem shaken. “Just the door. Let’s keep up.” Sharkface’s touching didn’t stop, and Felix tried his best to ease back into the mood. It didn’t take long for him to have his hands around Sharkface’s ass.

Felix was pushing Sharkface’s head down, urging him to further his exploration south when the door slammed again. He shouted in surprise, shoving Sharkface away this time. “Jesus Christ-” He was cut off by the lights flickering and another door slamming, one outside his room.

When Sharkface reached to touch Felix the alarm clock tipped off his bedside table and came to life with loud static. “Awh, shit…” He looked back to Felix, who was already clambering off the bed. “Felix, come back, it’s just-”

“I’m fucking tired of you watching me!” Felix shouted, stomping through his apartment and slamming doors. “How do you like it, hunh? Come out of the fucking shadows!”

“Felix-” Sharkface stopped himself as he stood in the doorway of Felix’s bedroom. “Felix, you’re…” Off the rails would have been his first choice of words, but Felix didn’t stop shouting and ranting. He sighed, rubbing at his temple. “I’m going to go. Not that you seem to care.”

Felix’s shouting didn’t stop, not until he heard the door slam and Sharkface was gone. He was boiling. He couldn’t contain the rage spilling from him. “I fucking hate you.” He knocked over his living room lamp and stomped back to his room, frustrated and dissatisfied.

•••  


That night Felix slept alone.

Sharkface’s absence didn’t bother him. He was unsure if he had even really wanted to spend time with him that night anyway. Felix’s irritation only subsided when he crawled into bed after several more beers and held his pillow, listening to eerie mumbles of his television.

He was sure he had fallen asleep when he opened his eyes, feeling the weight of a body on the bed with him. He thought of Sharkface at first, thought of his body pressed against his back, a constant, comforting pressure. He groaned as he lifted his head and saw nothing but the blurry, active shapes of his television.

Felix was drifting off again when he felt heat against his loins, pressing down on his hips like a body. He made a small noise, soft and surprised, barely opening his eyes. He was still sobering up from the night, head muddy and tired.

Felix didn’t want to revisit his recent paranoia. He didn’t want to think about the weight pressing down on him that felt too much like a body. He kept his eyes closed, turning his head on his pillow, and sighed as the heat around his thighs intensified.

The warmth spread through his legs like a trickle, as if he were being engulfed. A moan spilled from him, hips lifting off the bed in search of the heat that plagued him. He tried to curse, only for a slurred noise to escape him. The thick heat felt eerily similar to a mouth.

Weight shifted along his body, until he was sure there were hands on his hips. A groan rumbled through Felix as he twisted in his blankets, his leg trembling with the pressure building in his gut.

The orgasm took him by surprise. His chest was pounding as he finally went lax, stretching his arms out above his head around his pillow. He let out a long breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in, sure that whatever mystical fucking blowjob had been bestowed upon him might be some fantastic wet dream.

When he opened his eyes all that greet him was the bleary lights of his television and light from the street lamps filtering through his blinds.

•••  


If there was anything to be said about his sleeping habits, Felix would always profess he didn’t have dreams. If he did, he never remembered them. There were some mornings he woke up feeling as if he had forgotten something that happened, but he could never pull the thoughts together to give it meaning.

So when Felix dreamt, painfully aware of his dreaming state, he held a moment of panic that was swept away into uneasiness. It was all hazy, like he were drifting. There was someone there with him, standing just to his left as he sifted through the haze.

“I know you’re there,” he said, though his mouth didn’t open for the words. Felix halted, unsure of what he could do to draw out whoever had joined him in his dream. “Why are you here?”

Felix didn’t think it was weird that he received no answer.

It took Felix a few moments to orient himself, until he was certain he had himself under control. He was unnerved, but unmoving.

Instead of words, he was touched. Two hands grasped his, thumbs rubbing over his palms. There was nothing in front of him, nothing to hold him, only the thick air that persisted.

The hands holding his wandered. Felix felt them slide over his arms, and then to his chest. Felix opened his mouth to speak, but he found only air came out. As the haze enveloped him he felt a blanket of safety trickle over him.

A sigh escaped Felix. His chest fluttered and he relaxed against the heavy figure that took a broader shape before him. He felt as if the sense of security he felt was false, but he couldn’t gather the strength to care. There was an eerie comfort, being wrapped up in shadow.

Felix opened his eyes. He was greeted to the view of his bedroom window, hugging one of his many pillows to his chest. As he yawned and burrowed further into his blankets, he thought about his dream and how he felt oddly comforted by it.

At the same time there was something in his chest he refused to call fear. He shook out a deep breath and closed his eyes, face nestled into his pillows.  There was nothing to be afraid of. Only his room and the dark lay outside his bed.

As he slowly drifted off once more, Felix swore he felt a weight on the other side of the bed, dipping like there was another body there. It wasn’t enough to wake him, and he slept to the comfort of a gentle weight against his back.

•••  


Felix went on with his life. The odd dreams continued, the interruptions of his sex life continued, but he went on with things as normal. He stole identities, he ran up credit card debt in other people's names, bought himself countless things he knew he would never use (but they were expensive so he definitely needed them). He paid his cable bill with a credit card under the name “Lavernius Tucker” and couldn't help but think what a stupid name that was.  

Everything was normal, he thought. It had to be.

It was normal until he saw someone in his living room.

At least Felix thought it was someone. When he struggled into a pair of boxers and pushed through his door to get to his living room he barely saw the form of something undeniably human turning towards him. There was a brief moment he swore it was looking at him.

“Hey-” Felix exclaimed, reaching out as the form vanished. It had been hazy, like on a hot summer day when he could see the heat over asphalt. He halted, his limbs rigid and tight as he tried to process what had happened. He called out, as a last ditch effort, “Hello?”

He was graced with silence. Felix balled his fists in frustration, both hands then sliding through his bedraggled hair. “For fuck’s sake.”

Felix was tired of being paranoid in his own home. All too many times he had the nagging feeling someone was there, watching him, with him. It was an uncomfortable presence he felt settle in his gut. At first he had wanted to deny any and all possibilities that it was something as ridiculous as a haunting, but Felix found himself googling local psychics.

He didn't trust any of them. They all charged an arm and a leg (cash only) just to hear his problems over the phone, much less to come to his apartment and do a reading.

The only one that caught his eye was listed as “Dr. Emily Grey, available by appointment only. Fees discussed after walkthrough.”

He thought, why not. If she was going to charge him an inordinate amount of money just to come out to his house and tell him she could feel a “presence” then he could just have Sharkface kill her. One less scam artist in the world for him to compete with.

When Felix dialed the number there was an answer. “Doctor Emily Grey’s phone, what is this regarding?”

“Um…” Felix wondered why everything was suddenly so professional. “I wanted to speak to Doctor Grey regarding an appointment.”

“Is this important? She’s in the middle of surgery at the moment.” Surgery? Was the good doctor having some kind of medical crisis?

“Yes,” he said, regardless if it was actually important. “I can’t tell you why. But it’s important.”

“I’ll patch you through.”

He waited on hold for several painful minutes, ignoring the elevator music, until finally he was answered, “Doctor Grey.”

It was answered in such clinical efficiency, like the way doctors answer phones on television,  that Felix wondered if she was just dramatic or if she really was a doctor. “Hey,” he said, “Uh… My name is Felix.”

“Mhm, well, I’m going to need a last name because I have several patients named Felix, or family members of patients named Felix.” She sounded rushed. There was noise in the background, like he had interrupted her in the middle of something. “I’m in the OR right now, please be quick.”

She was in the operating room. On the phone. Felix had a feeling he had stumbled across something more than a garden variety, scam artist psychic. “It’s about, um… Something in my home. I was told you could help me with this problem I’m experiencing. Like, mysterious problems. The haunting kind.”

“Oh!” She sounded excited, as if a very sudden realization had come to her. “I’ll call you back in a few hours, I’m just wrapping up this amputation. Thank you for calling!”

Felix was hung up on before he had a chance to process what she had said. He was starting to think that just letting the haunting happen was better than dealing with some mad scientist surgeon who was apparently also a psychic.

God, just thinking that sentence gave him a headache.

When Doctor Grey called back she spoke quickly, though very succinct. “I’m going to need some very basic information. What sort of apparitions are you seeing? Are you seeing any at all? Are you experiencing any cold spots, moving objects, scratching, biting, physical harm?”

“One question at a time would be nice, lady,” Felix cut in before she could ask anything else. “I haven’t seen anything until today. It’s been going on… shit, I don’t know. A while. I’m cold all the fucking time. Shit has been flying all over my house.”

“Any physical harm?” Doctor Grey enunciated her words rather insistently, as if she were already becoming agitated that Felix wasn’t keeping up with her. “Nevermind, I’ll get that information when I come to see you. How is Friday at 9?”

“In the morning?” Felix asked incredulously, offended that there would be any insinuation of him waking up before noon.

“No, at night! Don’t be silly. Who ever heard of a reading done at nine in the morning? We can discuss your fees after i do a walkthrough of your home. Now I really do need your address.”

Felix almost felt like a fool for getting himself involved with this ridiculous woman. But he was at his wit’s end with this ghost bullshit, and he begrudgingly offered up his address.

•••

Felix didn’t sleep the night before Doctor Grey was scheduled to come to his apartment. Too many times he had rolled over in bed feeling as if there was something resisting his movements, something that wanted him to lay still. He barely ate, too unsettled to keep anything down. He had an oncoming headache by eight, barely able to focus on getting ready for the good doctor.

How he was supposed to “get ready” for some seance bullshit was beyond him.

The knock on his door came ten minutes after nine.

Doctor Emily Grey was nothing like he expected. Felix had expected a short woman with big glasses and white hair, pale, and perhaps old and wrinkled with long nails and a tacky dress. The woman before him was pleasant to look at, brown skin and kinky curls tied back in a loose ponytail. She held a purse in her hands, flush against her black blouse and matching skirt. She stuck out her hand upon the open door, smiling wide. “You must be Felix. I’m Doctor Emily Grey.”

Felix welcomed her inside, locking the door behind them, and the first question that came to mind came out his mouth, “So you’re an actual doctor?”

“Yes, actually,” Grey told him, opening up her purse and pulling out a pen and notepad. “I’m a surgeon primarily. I can tell you don’t leave the house often. You work from home?”

Work. What a concept.

“Yeah,” he said, crossing his arms. “I work from home.”

Doctor Grey hummed and wandered around the home, jotting down a few words here and there. “Have you done anything lately that might disturb anything that was in your home?”

“No,” Felix said, the answer coming before he thought about the real possibility that he  _ had _ done something. “Wait.” He thought, too long, before he stared over at his coffee table where he had put the Ouija board. Doctor Grey followed his gaze and went to investigate before he could stop her.

“This is delightful!” Not the exact response he had suspected from someone who was supposed to be solving his supernatural problems. Grey examined the ouija board with a soft touch, fingers moving over the blackened letters. “Handmade, wood burning technique, definitely hours of work put into this… Authentic belief would definitely move something like this to take on real spiritual power.”

“So I brought this shit on myself,” Felix said, his voice flat. He sighed and held his face in his hands with a groan. He should have known better than to mess with that spiritual freaky shit.

“Yes! You did.” Grey made a noise of delight as she touched the handmade planchette, smoothing her thumbs over the weathered wood. “It feels very powerful. When you used it did you say goodbye?”

“What?”

“That explains it,” Grey said, nodding along as she laid the ouija board out on the coffee table. “You didn’t end your conversation. When you use a ouija board you’re opening a window. That window is for communication. When you don’t say goodbye you leave the window open, and anything can come through it. You invited something into your home.”

Felix felt like he should have known all this, with all the horror movies he watched. “Okay,” he said, “So how do I get rid of it?”

“That depends on what it is. Come on, let’s have a conversation.” Grey was making herself comfortable on the couch, reaching forward to placed her fingertips on the planchette. “Come on. You’ve got to be a part of it too.”

“I can’t believe this…” Felix sat beside her, hands on the planchette. “You get to do all the talking. I’m just going to make sure that you’re not moving this shit on your own.”

“You could use it yourself,” Grey offered, though she made no move to take her hands off. She moved the planchette to “Hello.” “Are we speaking with anyone?”

The planchette very smoothly, and quickly, slid to “Yes.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Grey said, ignoring the incredulous look Felix turned at her. “My name is Doctor Emily Grey. I’ve been told I make it easier for your kind to communicate. Do you find it easy to talk with me around?”

The planchette swiveled around the board once, before it landed again on “Yes.”

“Oh good! I’m always happy to hear that. Is it alright if I ask you some questions?”

Instead of swiveling around to “yes” again, the planchette began spelling out letters. Felix followed them, mouthing along until- F-E-L-I-X. “Holy shit.”

“Would you like to speak with Felix instead of me?” Before Grey could even finish her words the planchette was sliding around the alphabet, spelling out Y-E-S over and over, as if it couldn’t get its point across any other way.

Felix’s chest tightened as Grey said, “I guess we have our answer.”

There was a dull thud in Felix’s ears as attention turned to him. He shook his head. He wasn’t afraid. Certainly not afraid, but there was a certain… apprehension that came with being asked for by name by some spirit. His voice was shaky. “Who are you?”

L-O-C-U-S.

“Like… a locust? Like a bug?” Felix felt stupid, like this was some biblical shit. He didn’t get a chance to think any further on that conclusion as the planchette very succinctly slid to “No.”

“It’s a mathematical and psychology term,” Grey cut in, “Like the locus of control. Is that right?” She smiled wide, and Felix thought she was smug, as the planchette slid to “Yes.” “That’s a very nice name. Did you give it to yourself?”

“Yes.” The planchette moved off the word only to slide right back onto it again. Felix felt nauseous.

“Is there anything you want to ask before I start my round of questioning?” Grey asked, giving Felix a look that urged several questionable thoughts to the surface.

“Why are you haunting me?” Felix demanded, his lips twitching down into a hardened scowl. There was little he felt comfortable discussing with a stranger around, but he was determined to find his answers.

S-P-E-C-I-A-L.

“Well, why am I special?” Felix asked. He needed more than he was getting; he supposed that a ghost having to spell out all its words didn’t leave for very clear or detailed answers.

They waited. They waited for two minutes and still there was no response. Frustrated, Felix repeated his question. The second time he was greeted by silence he could feel the cold in the room. It crept up his spine and over his shoulders, like hands sliding palms down over his chest. Felix shuddered and hunched his shoulders. It didn’t escape Grey.

“Are you being touched, Felix?” Grey had this tone to her like she knew about what Felix had withheld from her. All the touching and the cold spots. He felt like one glance while he was being iced out and she knew. He only nodded. “Locus, do you like touching Felix?”

The planchette moved faster than before now. “Yes.”

Felix had to be prompted by Grey. “Why do you like touching me?”

B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L.

Grey only seemed more intrigued by this, bordering on gleeful. “How fascinating! This is just so interesting to see, first hand. Locus, did you bond with Felix for any particular reason? Besides him being special, or beautiful of course.”

Felix was insulted. “You say that like I'm not those things.”

“Oh, Felix, I think it's a bit early for me to be making those assumptions about you,” Grey said, her smile wide. She had that quality to her like she was always smiling. It gave Felix the creeps.

They turned their attention back to the planchette, catching the letters coming together.

P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

Felix had a cold stone in his gut by then. He could feel the chills coming down to nest in the base of his spine like snakes worming through his nerves. He didn't speak, and he certainly didn't acknowledge how it felt  _ good _ of all things to be called perfect by an otherworldly creature.

“If you don't mind me asking, Locus, what kind of entity are you?” Grey sounded more curious now, like she had something creeping up in her voice. She waited. The planchette didn't move. Instead, she looked to Felix and said, “Ask.”

Felix swallowed nervously. “Are you a ghost?”

“No.”

He took a deep breath, and tried again, “Are you a demon?”

The planchette was slow to move, and Felix's heart thudded in his chest.

“Yes.”


End file.
